The Pianist And The Toy Robot
by The Erudite Scribe
Summary: Ten years ago, an orphan boy made it his lifelong dream to buy a particular toy robot. Now a successful man, when he chances upon that very same toy years later, the toy store's new owner is less than willing to give it up- thanks to certain circumstances. With this, a long and heartwarming struggle for the toy begins. Rated T for strong language.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimed.**_

* * *

He gingerly rubs the specks of ice from his nose.

The roads are lined with trails of snow, tinted by the festive lights hanging from the narrow shop roofs. The once regular tinkle of the store bells is absent that night—the streets are deserted, with the visitor density concentrated in front of the town hall. Children pursue each other playfully in the plaza with candy canes in one hand, stockings in the other.

He wears his stockings on his feet.

The frosty wind blows his messy black tresses into his eyes, and he blinks twice in a feeble attempt to clear his eyesight. He adjusts his worn out cap so that his hair is pushed back by the rim, but he is exposed to yet another annoyance as the breeze nips at his forehead and his burgundy eyes. Clicking his tongue in irritation, he grasps hold of the rim of his cap and quickens his pace, keeping his head down.

Nonetheless, he reassures himself that being outside on a day of less than sympathetic weather is far more enjoyable than being holed up in a building constructed of falsehood.

He is not fond of the unpleasant, throaty carols and the artificially constructed mood of the orphanage—his 'home', which has never successfully clawed into his heart with its apparent welcoming belonging. It is to the point where he deems the flaky, navy-blue door of the building as his only means to escape the forced reality.

The snowflakes nip at his bare fingertips as he holds his thin collar around his neck, in an attempt to escape the icy winds. The glass doors along the alley are closed for the night, unwelcoming to potential—and during the holidays, usually non-existent—customers, let alone shabbily dressed, penniless orphans.

Nevertheless, he continues to walk along the frozen alleyway, even as his eyes continuously search for specks of warmth within the stores.

His eyes scan the buildings which he passes by—signs with bolded, fancy letters, green and gold tinsel framing the glass windows and doors, Christmas trees and mistletoe in white paint on the glass. They all celebrate a very merry Christmas, and he can only cringe and move on.

It is then when he stumbles across what he has been looking for. Within the line of deserted shops marked with their less than genuine greetings, there is one building that glows in gold—it is the first store that still has its lights on, and the boy can already feel the heat within emanating. It causes him to slow down in his steps, and eventually halt. The boy peers through the glass window of the shop, where on the other side, intricately crafted dolls and robots are displayed among platforms of different heights. Within the building, even more assorted toys are assembled along the various shelves, and the boy notes to himself that the variety of toys in the store could provide something for almost every child.

Unsure if the lights were on because the owner was merely spending Christmas alone in the shop, he cautiously pushes the door open.

He hears the sound of a tinkling bell from above as a burst of warm air hits him in the face.

"I didn't expect a visitor today, of all days," an amused, yet warm, baritone voice calls out from the back of the store upon his entrance, and soon the boy is face to face with a fair-haired man with a smile. To the young orphan, he realises that this simple shopkeeper's welcome is far more genuine than the forced grins upon the faces of the orphanage carers.

The boy, after some brief hesitation, bows his head slightly in recognition.

"So, what's a young boy like yourself doing out in the cold at night?" The shopkeeper asks, as he pours steaming liquid into two Styrofoam cups at his disposal. "I know it's Christmas, but it's hardly reason for anyone to catch a cold."

The child's quiet reply belies a childish meekness.

"…I just wanted to get some air."

The shopkeeper looks at him knowingly, before handing him a warm cup from one of his hands.

"It's hot chocolate. It'll keep you warm," he reassures the boy with another smile.

The child cautiously accepts the cup with his two hands, and the heat emanating from the cup is pleasurable to his freezing skin. He brings the cup to his lips and almost immediately, the tasty sensation swarms his mouth.

"So, kiddo, what's your name?" The shopkeeper asks him before taking a sip from his own cup.

He does not hear the shopkeeper's question. Instead, his eyes pause at one of the toys placed on the highest shelf—he cannot explain why he is unable to draw his eyes away from the red and grey robot which, at first glance, is nothing special amongst the other vibrant, inviting toys beside it. All he knows is that he desires it, and it is certainly not a petty, childish desire, easily erased, but an object that he earnestly wished that he had sufficient funds to purchase.

But of course, he is a boy living in a state next to poverty, and he regrettably knows that his wish is impossible.

The shopkeeper notices his mental absence and repeats his question, finally capturing his attention. The boy still maintains his gaze on the robot as he mumbles his name.

"Natsume."

"Natsume? That's a nice name. Call me Izumi-" The shopkeeper pauses, as he finally notices the boy's concentrated gaze on the shelf behind him, rather than on him and what he himself is saying.

Izumi cannot help but be amused at Natsume's enraptured state.

"Do you like it? I created it about three weeks ago, give or take."

It is this that finally allows Izumi to succeed in grasping the boy's undivided attention.

"You made the robot? By yourself?" He asked incredulously, staring at the sheepish man in wonder.

"I'm a toy maker, Natsume. And these," Izumi motions to the entirety of the store, "are my creations. So, are you interested in the robot?"

Natsume wants to say yes, that having the robot would somehow make his Christmas happy, but his fingers unconsciously move towards his pockets—which he knows, are completely empty, and always have been.

He admits the truth. "I don't have any money."

Natsume expects the man's cheerful disposition to vanish immediately upon his admittance that he is not a capable customer. However, Izumi remains calm as he walks forward and places a reassuring hand on his small shoulder.

"Well, when you get older, and you work hard to earn the money, you will be able to buy it. But until that happens, I'll save the robot for you. I'll be waiting, Natsume."

Enamoured by Izumi's promise, he nods as he returns the now empty cup of hot chocolate to him, feeling unusually refreshed. He mutters a quick 'thank you' before dashing out of the store, with a brand new and inexhaustible determination evident in his expression. Natsume thinks to himself that his flat pockets will no longer be empty as time passes, and as he takes one last look at the small corner store, he sees Izumi stroking the hair of a brunette child around his age.

Natsume feels that he can hear the rich notes of 'Deck The Halls' toll throughout the town.

Izumi watches the boy leave his store with a smile, as he feels something tug on his shirt.

"Daddy, who was that? And why are his clothes so thin?" His young daughter asks him, with eyes full of youthful curiosity. She is confused as to why her father appears proud at that very moment.

"Mikan, that boy is a future customer. I'm certain that he'll return, someday."

* * *

A/N: _This marks the beginning of a collaboration between Jess and I. I do hope you enjoy this._

_-Theo._


	2. Chapter One

**_Disclaimed._**

* * *

_Paris, Ten years later._

The cold morning chill of late November sweeps through the city of Paris, as a twenty-year-old woman is seen running haphazardly down one of its busy streets, towards a stately building off in the distance. One of her hands tug at her lapels, trying to pull her coat tight to prevent the cool breeze from freezing her half to death, while her other hand clutches a package of musical scores, almost as if her life depended on them. The lapels fall out of her hand, and she lets out a groan, shivering lightly in the cold.

Her long, tangled, auburn locks fan out mercilessly behind her, coming around to whip her face as she hastily pauses in the middle of the busy walkway to button up her coat. The panting woman, in all her unprepared and somewhat disheveled glory, draws more than a few curious looks from various members of the well-dressed rush-hour crowd. Almost as soon as she is finished with her coat, she brings her watch up, and mumbles a panicked '_I'm late_', as she redoubles her pace towards her destination.

She barges through the double doors of the building and looks up at the signs in the distance. Her desperate searching ends abruptly when her eyes finally catch a glimpse of a sign to her right.

_Rehearsal Studio. _

_ 'Welcome to the Association de la musique! How may I hel-'_

Pointedly ignoring the receptionist, the auburn-haired girl brushes past the front desk and continues running. Her feet race in the direction of the sign, boots clicking out a frantic and uneven rhythm on the marble floors of the Music Association building.

She mumbles in agitation, her steps growing increasingly wider.

'_Move faster, Mikan. You can't be late for this. Sign's telling me to turn right just about-'_

She rounds the corner, trips over thin air, and collides into a suited man in front of her, sending the two of them tumbling over.

The man is the first to recover, rolling to his side and standing back up.

Instead of offering the girl a hand, he instead looks back down, sourly.

The girl, having managed to get back up on her own at this point, bends over and picks her package of scores back up, all while preparing to resume her mad dash. Back facing towards him, she squeaks out a quick apology over her shoulder.

"I'm really sorry! I-"

A hand on the girl's shoulder roughly turns her around, and she finds herself staring into a pair of smoldering crimson eyes.

"Damn it, watch where you're going, will you?"

The girl sheepishly tries to continue her apology.

"I'm really, really, sorry! I'm in a rush and all, and I really have to get to the rehearsal studio-"

She is interrupted by a nasty glare.

"Really, now. The studio is for authorized personnel _only_. What would someone so horribly unrefined- and badly dressed- be doing _without_ a staff pass in a staff-only area, might I ask?"

The girl, previously demure, blows a stray lock of hair away from her face, before replying.

"I have a package to deliver to the _concertmaster_, Mister _high-and-mighty_. Now excuse me, I was in a rush, and I still am."

She proceeds to stomp off, but is again grabbed roughly, this time by her arm.

"Hey, _hey_!"

The man's annoyed shout makes her spin around again.

"Let go of me!"

"And why should I? You think I'd just let some _idiot_ that bumped into me go? You might have damaged my suit!"

"Who are you calling an idiot? I apologized, didn't I?"

"Not my point. You could have damaged this Armani original. Think you'd have the money to pay for the fees to repair this?"

"Ugh, you insufferable-"

A blond-haired man appears from a room adjacent to the corridor, and approaches the two bickering individuals.

"Mister Hyuuga, is anything the problem?"

"Ah, Concertmaster. Could you _please_ tell me if you know this person?"

The dark-haired man gestures pointedly at the girl, who is fuming quietly at him.

The concertmaster glances towards the girl, a vaguely amused look on his face.

"Mikan? What are you doing here? Didn't Narumi tell you to wait in the lobby for me?"

The girl, Mikan, hands the blond-haired man the scores, and sticks out her tongue at the scornful man.

"_Told you I knew him, dummy."_

She blows a childish raspberry at the dark haired man, and is immediately greeted by a stern look from the concertmaster.

"Mikan, thank you for the scores and all, but this man is _the orchestra's dignified guest, _pianist Natsume Hyuuga. I would really appreciate it if you _refrained_ from the raspberries."

A smirk begins to appear on Natsume's face, as the concertmaster admonishes his auburn-haired friend.

Mikan can only sputter in return, obviously incensed at the somewhat unfair treatment.

"B-but he called me an idiot! And undignified, and, and, and-"

"Dimwitted, ugly, petty, childish, immature?" The pianist offers, his smirk growing wider.

Mikan is lost for words at this point, and can only glare exasperatedly at the concertmaster.

The concertmaster can only place a palm to his forehead, as he replies curtly.

"Well, Mister Hyuuga, I would really appreciate it if you'd stop with the snark. Mikan's my friend, and you're really bordering on insults here."

Natsume can only raise his hands in mock defeat at this.

"Very well, Mister Nogi. Let us get on with the rehearsal, shall we? Thanks to this _little _fiasco,' he remarks, teeth gritted, 'we're slightly more than five minutes late. We should move, lest the rest of the orchestra begin to get impatient."

He gives a frosty stare to Mikan at this point, turns around, and walks off towards the rehearsal studio.

Mikan decides to blow another raspberry at the pianist's retreating figure, and then throws an exasperated look over at the concertmaster, even as said man begins to turn around to follow his companion.

"Oh Jesus, Ruka. Don't tell me you have to work with this- this _jerk_."

"Well, he _is _the guest pianist for one of our upcoming performances, after all," the concertmaster replies with a shrug.

He then gestures to the rehearsal studio, and gives a helpless, pleading look to his friend.

"I can't stay, Mikan. I have practice. Coffee after this, at two? I promise I'll make up for him being difficult."

Mikan sighs, and casts a sympathetic glance towards her friend.

"Alright. Good luck dealing with that asshole."

Ruka gives her a final, winning, smile, and dashes off to catch up with the pianist.

Mikan simply sighs, for the umpteenth time that morning, and rests her forehead on a nearby pillar.

'_What a fabulous way to start my day.'_

* * *

_Two days later._

A young man casually steps out of his expensive executive sedan, and dons a pair of sunglasses, gingerly settling them on the bridge of his nose.

As he does so, he is immediately greeted by ambient, christmas-themed music from the cafe he is parked beside. Running a hand through his messy, jet-black hair, he takes in his surroundings.

Children run along the streets, playfully chasing their friends, while their parents watch on. Shops and cafes brim with life, with some sporting early Christmas decorations. Candy canes and stockings litter shop windows, with the occasional 'sale' sign propped up here and there.

He thinks fondly of the stocking he is prepared to hang on his fireplace in a few weeks. A sudden gust of wind makes him place his hands in his pockets, and he begins his leisurely stroll along the quaint shopping alley, looking for nothing in particular.

He whistles a quiet tune to himself, as he looks into the occasional store window, a bemused and somewhat detached look on his face.

His attention is eventually captured by a small corner store. Its windows display row after row of lovingly crafted toy, and he cannot help but be drawn to enter it.

A bell tinkles as he gingerly pushes the door open, and a gust of warm air greets him.

The man glances around, eyes searching eagerly.

"Hello there! Welcome to Sakura Toys! How may I help-"

Jus as the man catches sight of something familiar in one of the store's back shelves, he is interrupted from his reverie as the shopkeeper's greeting stops short, and he turns around, only to be greeted by a pair of familiar hazel eyes.

Both man and woman react by uttering the same word, in surprise.

"You."

* * *

Notes: _A concertmaster is usually the section leader of the first violin section, and is responsible for facilitating communication between his section and the conductor. He is also usually the one who plays violin solo parts when there are no guest soloists present; in other words, a concertmaster is usually the most skilled strings player of a certain orchestra, and is responsible for most of the technical details regarding that particular part of the orchestra. In terms of rank, he is usually second only to the conductor._

_A/N: Wanted to call this first chapter ''Falling' in love', amongst other things. Jess objected strongly, for obvious reasons. We're sticking with 'Chapter One' for now._

_-Theo._


	3. Chapter Two

_**Disclaimed.**_

* * *

"You."

The shopkeeper gasps as she immediately sets down the mug in her hands and storms out from behind the counter, stopping barely a metre away from Natsume. The dark-haired man is, unsurprisingly, still in shock.

"_You!_" She repeats, as she stabs a finger directly at his astonished face. Natsume's expression immediately morphs into one of plain irritation, as Mikan continues her surprised tirade.

"What are _you _doing here?!"

He scoffs at her question. "I don't know. What do people normally do in stores, _brat_?"

"Well, that doesn't explain what on earth a _grown up and single male_ would be doing in a _toy store_," her eyes narrow, as she continues. "Oh, you're probably here to buy the store, kick us out, and demolish it in order to build a giant closet especially for your precious Armani suits, _aren't you?_"

Her mockery turns sour as she ends her sentence and places her hands on her hips, all while maintaining a steady glare at him. "Because you're so rich, that would probably mean _nothing at all_ to you, huh!"

Natsume clicks his tongue at her outburst, and leans forward so that his eyes are level with her own. "I most definitely am rich, little girl," he sneers. "I could _also_ most definitely buy your whole life in an instant for the sole purpose of making it _hell_."

The already annoyed Mikan is now even more incensed at this. "Stop lying! Just so you know, money isn't everything! You can't get whatever you want just because you have tons of money!"

His calm reply takes Mikan off guard.

"Well, just so _you_ know, _idiot_, money _is _everything. How on earth would you survive in such a vicious world with only, perhaps, love and friendship? Only little girls like you are naïve enough to actually believe in that silly ideal."

Mikan falls silent, as Natsume smirks victoriously. The brunette in front of him is wordlessly fuming, as her fists repeatedly clench and unclench. As soon as the male thinks that he has won the argument against his day's first irritating obstacle, however, said obstacle raises her hand and jabs him hard in the chest with one finger.

"Listen, you insufferable jerk, this is _my _property, and _my _shop." She points to the back of the wall, where the majority of the toys are arranged. "You see these? They're _mine, a_nd even if you weren't planning to, you will never take anything away from me. A rich bastard like you would _never_ understand. Now, _get out of my shop_!"

Natsume does not flinch during her major outburst. She does not realize until she is finished that he has not heard a word she has said, and that instead his gaze is fixated to the back wall where she had pointed to earlier.

"And you _dare _to ignore me—"

"That robot."

The memory is vivid in his mind—he can recall the exact details of the robot he saw that Christmas night, and the one he sees at the very top shelf on the back wall matches his memory exactly. Its plainness in comparison to all the other toys around it stands out. The contrast of its grey and red limbs is what really taps into his memory- he remembers that detail with the most vigor. The colors are a little more faded than he remembers, but he knows without a doubt that that is the very same toy that he has spent half his life working for.

He is sure.

"What robot—" Mikan turns to where he is focused, when she realizes that it is the old, unpopular robot that he is gawking in awe at. "What? You like it? Too bad that you didn't think about _that _when you came into my store today."

Natsume disregards her comment. "How much do you want?"

"What?"

"Are you deaf? I asked how much you want for it."

"For what?"

"What do you think, idiot? The robot."

"Wait. You _want _the robot?"

"I knew you were an idiot, but I didn't think that you'd be _this _stupid. I'm not speaking an alien language, you know."

Mikan's face turns amusedly sour as she shakes her head at his demand.

"And I don't know how you've gotten this far without realising that _I'm not selling it to you_. Never in your wildest dreams will you get what you want if it's in my hands! Give up."

Natsume is not able to reply to her words, as the conversation is suddenly interrupted by another voice, approaching from another room.

"Mikan, what's going on over here?" A fair haired man in his forties emerges from the back room, and as soon as he sights Natsume, he is stunned. A gleam of recognition appears in his eyes.

Natsume is also surprised to see the shopkeeper from his childhood appear in front of his eyes ten years later-visibly older-but still the same man, nonetheless.

Before either of them can say anything to each other, Mikan speaks up first.

"You didn't have to get out of bed, Dad," she sighs, and Natsume immediately makes the connection.

When he is sure their eyes are turned, the pianist silently scolds himself.

"I just have a _really_ _bothersome _customer," Mikan continues as she turns back to glance at Natsume with a sneer.

"It's alright," Izumi reassures his daughter, visibly relaxing her slightly.

Having settled her daughter, he then turns to Natsume slowly.

"He," Izumi continues slowly, "is a long awaited guest of mine."

It is the first time that Mikan has heard of such a relation. "What?"

"Welcome back, Natsume," Izumi grins as he holds out a hand for him to shake. "You seem well."

Natsume accepts the hand respectfully, a completely different attitude to what he used for Mikan. "I am, and so do you."

"What is going on, Dad?" Mikan glances between them, her expression a fusion of curiosity and confusion. "How do you know this…" She cannot bring herself to finish as she stares at the slightly smug Natsume with disdain.

He allows Izumi to talk, as the older man already seems itching to tell his daughter about it.

"Natsume came to my store years ago, and then I promised to hold on to that robot on the back shelf for him until he could buy it."

"But dad, it's _my store now_, and I'm definitely not selling it to him," She crosses her arms and tells her father as-a-matter-of-factly. "Not after what he's done."

Natsume clicks his tongue at the brunette's persistence, but she is attentive enough to overhear it. As she sends him the umpteenth glower of the day, her father calls out to her.

"Mikan," his expression is evidently torn, "why don't you-"

"Dad, can we talk?" Her adamance has not faded, as she breaks away from glowering at Natsume and grabs her father's arm. She begins leading Izumi into a back room, muttering a curt "stay here" and leaving a now speechless Natsume standing in the front of the store.

Once they are sure Natsume is out of hearing range, Mikan leans in with a pleading look, and begins her mission to win her father over.

"Dad, there is _no way_ I am going to sell that robot to him," she speaks in a hushed whisper, "I don't want to."

"Why not?" Izumi asks her in return as he glances towards the direction of the door separating them from Natsume for the time being. "Ten years ago I made this boy a promise. Am I to deny him what he has worked half his life for?"

Mikan's expression softens, and she seems to relent slightly, but she stubbornly continues to press her case anyway. "Why not? I have so many reasons _'why not'_-he's rude, a jerk, and he thinks money is everything! He even threatened to ruin my life at one point!"

"Honey, I'm sure he wasn't-"

"I apologized for bumping into him the other day, but all he said was that I would have to pay for his stupid Armani shirt!" For a moment she collects her breath, but she is unable to keep her calm for long, as expected. "He has an inflated ego, what sounds like a god complex, and _many other_ huge problems with his attitude in general. Dad, he's the biggest jerk I have ever met."

Izumi hesitates at his precious daughter's words-although he had earnestly saved the toy robot for the boy, he is not at all pleased with his behaviour towards his daughter. A part of him wonders if the promise was the reason for the young man's view of the world and money.

He sighs, resignedly. "Alright. You don't have to sell it to him… _immediately_."

Mikan simply stares at him, cocking her head to the side slightly.

He looks her daughter in the eye, and explains slowly.

"Mikan, no matter how rude he's been to you, deep down I'm sure he's still an earnest boy who's worked half his life for this robot. You don't have to sell it to him this instant, but please, just cut him some slack?"

The brunette is now the one who falls silent at her father's words. She is reluctant to agree, as the anger from the previous events begin to boil within her once again, but the expression in her father's eyes is hard for her to resist, and he had always been the more logical sounding one between the two.

Mikan huffs. "Fine, but he's not going to pay for it with _just money_."

After a few more minutes, Natsume is snapped out of his thoughts as Mikan storms out of the room, with a hesitant, yet compliant Izumi following in her footsteps.

The dark-haired man makes an expression, his crimson eyes searching for the brunette's verdict in her own hazel depths. She gives nothing away, as she crosses her arms and stares at him solidly.

"I'm still not going to sell this to you," she starts, "not unless-"

"Five hundred thousand Euros, upfront." He interrupts, catching Mikan off-guard. "In _cash_."

"..." She falls silent, sinking into a strange reverie that Izumi raises a brow at. Natsume's smug smirk grows wider.

"So is that a yes?"

She snaps out of her thoughts, and regains her firm position on the matter as she replies, "...No. Of course not! Didn't I just tell you two seconds ago that I'm not going to sell it?"

"I'm _not_ going to take no for an answer."

Mikan smirks at his response. "Well, if you really want it so badly, then you'll have to do something for me. Show me that you really want it."

He looks at her, questioningly.

"I just offered you _half a million_ Euros. What the hell do you mean, _'show me that you really want it'_?"

"Twelve tasks."

Izumi raises an eyebrow from behind his daughter, clearly interested. His eyes light up in recognition of her favourite childhood story.

Natsume's reply is suitably intelligent, "What."

She clears her throat, ready to start what seems to be a long explanation about the painfully vague phrase.

"Have you heard of _the twelve labours?_ You know, the twelve labors of Hercules, that Greek mythological legend where Hercules was required to complete twelve _impossible_ tasks to repent for having done something _really bad?_"

Natsume, having managed to collect his wits, by then, haughtily gives his reply. "Even if I _were _familiar with it, why would it matter? Isn't this just your weird method of trying to get me to do twelve _possibly demeaning_ tasks in repentance for _doing nothing at all _to you?"

"Do you want the robot or not?" She challenges him, now grinning.

Natsume groans, and finally, he gives in.

"Fine. I'll do whatever you give me. It can't be that hard after all."

Natsume is left resigned, Mikan is a mix of smugness and devilishness, and Izumi can do nothing more than hide a small, uneasy smile behind one of his hands.

* * *

A/N: _Theo's editing saved me from publishing the most terrible, haunting, disgusting and downright lame endings I have ever written as an FFn author._

_-Jess._

_Regarding the above, absolute bullshit. I didn't do much for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading. Also, stay tuned. This marks the beginning of the actual plot._

_-Theo._

* * *

Additional notes:_ (Just for fun.) The Twelve Labours of Hercules, or dodekathlon, is an age-old tale of the great hero, Heracles (Hercules). Basically, the legend is already described briefly in the piece. The 'really bad thing' he did, though? Nothing big, he just murdered his family, specifically his six sons. _

_We're not exactly basing the plot directly on the twelve labors, though. It's just a very, very loose adaptation. As a reader, you probably won't need to have knowledge about Greek mythology to enjoy this. (We hope.)_

_For those really interested in the actual twelve tasks, though, the__ traditional order of the labours is usually presented as:_

_1. Slay the Nemean Lion._

_2. Slay the nine-headed Lernean Hydra._

_3. Capture the Golden Hind of__Artemis._

_4. Capture the Erymanthian Boar._

_5. Clean the Augean stables in a single day._

_6. Slay the Stymphalian Birds._

_7. Capture the Cretan Bull._

_8. Steal the Mares of Diomedes._

_9. Obtain the girdle of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons._

_10. Obtain the cattle of the monster Geryon._

_11. Steal the apples of the Hesperides (He had the help of Atlas to pick them after Hercules had slain Ladon)._

_12. Capture and bring back Cerberus._

_The tasks are as impossible as they sound. Happy reading up on them!_

-Theo.


	4. Chapter Three: The First Task

_**Disclaimed.**_

* * *

"Natsume, you missed a spot."

He looks up and wipes a bead of sweat off his brow, affixing his tormentor with a glare in the process.

"No, I don't think so."

Said tormentor takes a finger and rubs it against an extremely small corner of the display cabinet. She brings up her finger, inspecting it for dust.

All of a sudden, she jabs him in the chest with her other free hand.

"Really, now? What is _this,_ then?"

She shows him her other hand, index finger stained with grime.

Natsume's features are immediately tinged with annoyance in response.

"Did you really have to be so _anal_ about it? It was just one small spot."

"_One small spot_," she scoffs, "this 'one small spot' was big enough for me to see without leaning in. Be more thorough, idiot."

She huffs in annoyance, then resignedly gestures to a broom in the corner of the shop.

"Ugh, fine. I'll handle the cabinets. You sweep the floor. Not too much for you to handle I hope, _Your Majesty."_

He grumbles a little and walks over to the indicated broom.

_Sweep, sweep. _

He stops for a moment, and exhales in annoyance.

"Jesus. Why the _fuck_ am I doing this, again?"

_Sweep, sweep._

"Oh right, her first _impossible _task."

His eyes focus on a faraway spot, as his mind drifts off to the catalyst for his enslavement a few days prior.

* * *

_Mikan rests her hands on her hips, and looks at him triumphantly._

'_Twelve tasks. Think you're up to it?'_

_He returns her triumphant gaze with a smug one._

'_Like I said, can't be that hard. I don't expect much from you and your limited intelligence, after all.'_

_He sees Izumi affix him with a nasty look, and he immediately bites his tongue._

'_I mean, fine. I'll do whatever you ask me to do.'_

'_You sure about that, Mozart?'_

'_...That isn't exactly an insult, you know.'_

'_Just… Dad!'_

_Izumi affixes him with another nasty look, this time a little more forced._

_He sighs in resignation._

'_Yes, yes, Madam.'_

_She presses her finger to her chin, as if in thought._

'_Alright, I've got it. For your first task, help me clean up the shop after you're done with whatever you have to do tomorrow.'_

'_That isn't impossible, you know.'_

'_Help clean up my shop for a week then, you asshole. Impossible enough for you?'_

'_A __**week**__?'_

_She grabs the robot off the shelf and dangles it in front of his face mockingly._

_He groans and looks to Izumi for solace. He instead catches the older man trying to hide a smirk out of the corner of his eye._

'_...Betrayal.'_

* * *

Done spacing out, Natsume resumes his sweeping in a random, grumpy fashion.

"Oi! You're just scattering the dust around, you idiot!"

He groans, and finally resigns himself to putting in _some_ effort into sweeping, all while murmuring dissent.

'_Christ. Six more days of this? Might actually turn out to be impossible after all.'_

* * *

"It's been fifteen minutes, and you haven't moved an inch."

Her voice invades his momentary peace once again.

"Are you even sweeping at all?"

"No, I'm trying to use this broom to fly."

She crosses her arms and stares at him with disdain. "Oh my God, Natsume. Are you _always_ a sarcastic jerk?"

"Depends, are _you_ always this irritating?" He retorts, halting mid sweep and returning her sneer.

She throws up her hands in resignation.

"...I give up. Just sweep faster, I want to close this store as soon as possible."

* * *

"...Why in the world would you keep a frog sculpture in the cupboard?" He scoffs as he turns away from the cupboard's interior.

"This is a _toy shop, _Natsume_,_" Mikan emphasizes, motioning to the shop's interior. 'We make toys of all kinds.'

He grimaces. "That doesn't excuse the fact that _that_ is probably the most hideous frog I have ever seen."

"...Don't insult _Kero_!"

Mikan looks down at the floor.

'_FirsttoyIevermade.'_

He smirks, to which she looks back up to with an offended expression.

Natsume cannot help but be amused at her composure, or lack thereof. "What?"

"I was _nine, _okay?" She gasps, crossing her arms and gradually turning red from embarrassment. "And the stupid carving knife was too big for my hands, and I..."

"So, you guys make your own toys and sell them for a living?"

"No, I cut up blocks of wood and paint them _for fun._"

He raises both his eyebrows, obviously amused at her sudden outburst of sass.

"Sounds easy enough."

Mikan punches him lightly on the shoulder, as he recoils in fake pain.

"I'll have you know I trained for _ten _years, _idiot._" She says, completely serious, but almost instantly her composure changes as her eyes light up at that moment. "Oh, I know! Since you're so eager to hone your toy making skills-"

"Let me guess. Your second task is to have me make a toy."

"No. My second task for you will be for you to be my assistant for a day."

He pales a little, but does not back down.

"Think you can stand me invading your workspace?"

"I'll stab you with my carving knife if you try anything stupid," she mutters under her breath.

He pales even more.

* * *

"Took you five days, but it looks like you're finally competent at housework."

Natsume runs a hand through his hair, and looks smugly at her.

"I _am _a fast learner, after all."

She looks at him incredulously.

"That wasn't meant to be a compliment, _idiot!_ You're… You're..."

"Handsome? Suave? Talented?" He suggests, annoying her even further.

"_No!_ How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"_Precisely!_ I mean, you're twenty and you don't even know how to _sweep a floor_ properly! Stupid _man-child_."

He gives her a dirty look.

"What? That hurt your precious little ego? Well, this might seem like breaking news to you, but your ego is not '_little_' at all. Nope. It's the size of _Russia_. A small jab like that wouldn't do anything to you, now _would it_?"

He blinks at her, slowly.

She looks back at him and giggles.

"Score!"

* * *

"Ah, great. We're done for the day."

Mikan walks to a closet in the back room, and places the cleaning implements in it.

As she shuts the door to the closet and returns to the storefront, she sees and overhears Natsume quietly mumbling to himself.

"Yep, I'll finally be free after tomorrow."

He pumps his fist mockingly.

"Hurrah."

She looks at him, and utterly fails to contain a giggle.

He looks up at the sudden noise, somewhat surprised.

"What, gonna miss me when I'm gone?"

Her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink, and she huffs in irritance.

"Shut up. You still have eleven tasks left."

She points to the back room, and yawns.

"I'm tired. Go and get me a coffee, will you? Double cream, no sugar. Oh, and draw a smiley face on the foam with chocolate sprinkles too."

He looks at her incredulously.

"Chocolate- Seriously? How old are you?"

"Twenty."

He looks ready to protest, but before he can speak he is once again cut off by Mikan.

"Now, do you want the robot, or not?"

He groans, putting a hand to his forehead.

"_Fine."_

His smirk then returns to his face, and he bows mockingly. "Do you want white or dark chocolate sprinkles on your coffee, _Milady?"_

She glares at him exasperatedly.

"There's only one bottle of chocolate sprinkles on the table, _idiot. _Not that hard to miss."

He clicks his tongue in annoyance as he makes his way to the machine in the back of the room, muttering small profanities.

"Do you even know how to make coffee?" She pipes up once again, unwilling to maintain peace. "Or do you always have quality, foreign coffee beans served to you in fancy Wedgwood tea cups?"

Natsume snorts at her ridiculous question as he presses the buttons on the coffee machine he knows _very well _how to use. "It's not like I grew up in a freaking cave."

For the first time in a while, the two fall silent. The only noise to be heard the the sound of boiling water being poured into cups, and metal lightly clinking with china. Mikan sighs, realising that she has not been able to relax ever since the first demand had commenced, and strangely, the sound of brewing coffee soothes her.

A few moments later, Natsume returns to the front of the store with two steaming mugs.

"Here. Double cream, no sugar. _Smiley face."_

She grabs her mug, and chances a small sip, preparing for the worst. Her eyes widen in surprise.

"It's perfect. Who would've known you'd be good at something like this, huh?"

He raises an eyebrow from behind his own mug, as he drains a quarter of it in one long sip.

She looks up at him, and fidgets a little.

"Thank you."

He almost drops his mug.

"_What?_"

"_Don't _push it," Mikan warns reluctantly, mumbling into her cup. "Thank you for the coffee."

He settles against the wall, and takes another long sip, before simply replying, "You're welcome."

They are soon done with their coffee, and Natsume sets his empty mug on the countertop.

As he walks out, he hears Mikan calling out after him.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow, then. And don't forget, you're down as my assistant next Saturday."

He shrugs, pulls his coat tight, and walks into the night.

She returns to the back room with the empty mugs, a small smile on her face.

* * *

A/N:_ And that's another chapter, folks. __My thanks goes out to Jess. This chapter would not have been able to begin without her. Like literally. I was screaming my head off. To quote myself: 'HOW DO I LINK THE CHAPTERS OMG'_

_-Theo_

_Nah. He got off on the right track eventually. :P And this was actually the most fun chapter to write so far, thanks to Theo's snark. _

_-Jess_

_I swear. Wouldn't have been able to start without Jess. Seriously. Also, list of proposed ridiculous professions for Mikan: Demon hunter, exorcist, and Chucky. Yep. That freaky ass doll._

_-Theo_

From the both of us: _Thank you for your continued support. We hope you are enjoying this journey as much as we are._


	5. Chapter Four: The Second Task

_**Disclaimed.**_

* * *

He holds the collar of his thick coat close to his neck as he walks down the now familiar path to the toy store. Small cords of light bulbs hang from the roofs of the stores he passes, and he can barely hear the sound of slow cafe music from the busy plaza a distance away. Natsume cannot help but look around, noticing how the children are more hyperactive and colorfully dressed than usual, and even the parents scamper around the town with bright smiles of their own faces, looking forward to the Christmas shopping.

As he nears the store, he vaguely considers what he _could _be doing during the festive season, and the thought of warm coffee, sleep, and most especially _home _entice him-but he knows that his hopes are not going to be fulfilled today. After all, he has an appointment, which, strangely, he is not dreading as much as expected.

Natsume pushes the door open, and he does not expect the immediate welcome.

"You just made it on time, Natsume. _Just_." Mikan sighs and looks up at him smugly. "You got lucky this time."

"You didn't say anything last week about this. Since when was there a set time to get here?"

"Ever since you became _my _assistant. And as my assistant, you're going to need to know what your boss expects. It's standard employment protocol. And you suck at it." She states in a matter-of-fact manner as she walks around the counter and dramatically taps her watch.

The pianist places his hand over his chest in mock hurt. "Ouch, Mikan. You shatter my heart with your cold words," he jokes as he watches her start to panic. "Weren't you two steps away from proclaiming your love for me last week?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" She sputters, flabbergasted by his words, and picks up a rolled up magazine.

"I'm seriously going to hit you with this one day."

Natsume rolls his eyes in amusement at the empty threat. "Anyway, why are we still here? I thought I was going to be your 'assistant'."

The brunette snorts, and Natsume arches an eyebrow skeptically. She shoves a worn, navy-blue apron into his hands.

"You think it's that easy to be a toymaker's assistant, Natsume? That it's all fun and games?"

Her eyes take on a maniacal gleam at this point. "Oh no, it ain't. Toy making's all blood, sweat and tears, and I am _so_ going to make you feel it. You are_ so_ going to _suffer_."

She attempts an evil laugh at this point, but fails and explodes into uncontrolled giggles as she observes his pale expression.

"What's getting your panties in a twist?" Natsume questions monotonously, a small part of him in awe at her strange outburst. "I just asked why we're still here."

She completely ignores his remarks. With a faraway look in her eyes, she simply continues her tirade.

"I shall prove you wrong, Natsume. You'll finally see how hard my job really is."

He exasperatedly attempts a reply. "I didn't even-"

"_I'll show you just how hard it can get."_

His hand makes contact with his forehead for what is to be the first of many times that day.

"_Jesus."_

* * *

Natsume shoves his hands in the pockets of the old woodwork apron- presumably Izumi's- as he watches Mikan handling the carving tool with precise fingers. Her hands work the block of wood slowly, finely detailing the curves and shape of the wooden ballerina. He briefly notices a strange look in Mikan's eyes as she practices her craft. All of a sudden, he recognises that this is the first time he has seen her as such ever since he set foot into her shop nearly two and a half weeks ago.

All through the previous week, she had either been out of sight or else constantly berating him over missed spots.

As he sees her with carving tool in hand, hunched over her handiwork, a sudden thought crosses his mind.

'_She's almost like a completely different person in the workshop.'_

He suddenly remembers their first encounter.

'_She was such a clumsy mess back then.'_

"Natsume, are you even watching me?" Her voice shatters his reverie.

He looks down to see her looking up from her work and waving up at him cutely. He is quick to recover. "Of course I am."

Mikan watches him with suspicion, and a sudden gleam enters her eyes.

"So, if you really were watching me, you'd be able to make your own toy like you suggested last week, right?"

He freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

"N-Now?"

"Of course! Since you're my assistant for only a day rather than a week, you might as well master the art early. Or as much as you can, at least, since it _does_ take long, strenuous years to be as good as my dad."

Natsume immediately catches on to the fact that she had mentioned her father rather than herself, uncharacteristically.

"_Fine,_" he sighs in resignation.

"Can't be that hard for you, huh?"

He blinks twice, and responds to her challenge with a cocky smirk.

"_Yeah, can't be that hard, I suppose."_

* * *

Izumi arrives with a cup of hot chocolate in one hand, and he immediately notices not Natsume's smug look nor Mikan's annoyed stare, but the lone carved bear on the table.

His eyebrows rise at the sight, and he looks up at Natsume. "Did you make this?"

Natsume shrugs, and he looks at Mikan, whose eyes are glued on her father, awaiting his judgment.

After a brief moment, Izumi nods sagely.

"It's good."

"Told you," he taunts, but his smug grin reluctantly fades at Izumi's questioning look.

Mikan, on the other hand, is becoming increasingly frustrated.

"But- He's an _amateur!_" She complains, and then her voice fades into a barely intelligible mumble. "It's not that good..."

"It's not of a professional standard, but he _is_ a pianist. He obviously has skilled hands. Honestly, Mikan, in comparison to your first toy, it's pretty g-"

"Dad!" She stomps and gives him an indignant look.

"Sorry, Honey."

He quickly apologises to his offended daughter, hiding his amused grin behind the rim of his cup.

Mikan romps over to the bear on the table and points a finger to its face. "Look! Don't you think the eyes are weird?"

Natsume stares at her, confused. "How so? They're perfectly fine to me."

"They look angry! If I put this on the shelf, it's going to look like it's glaring at everyone who comes into this shop trying to find a cute toy for Christmas! No one's going to buy this scary bear!"

The pianist shrugs, unaffected by the brunette's continuous criticism of his work. "As long as the master's good with it, I am too, and you can save it for next Halloween if you're that scared of a toy."

"Me?" Mikan scoffs. "Scared of a toy? Toys _surround_ me practically everyday! It's just that your toy looks like it's about to falcon punch the first person it meets! I'm not going to acknowledge this! And as a matter of fact, these toys are for the young kids at the local orphanage as Christmas presents! If we gave them something like that, they're going to look at us like we're evil!"

"Calm down, Mikan, it isn't that big of a deal." Izumi comforts her, patting her tense shoulder, and he turns to Natsume. "He's good enough to help out with the production, but he'll just act as your assistant for the rest of the day as you settle the finer details. Okay?"

Natsume says nothing, being silenced by Izumi's look, to which Mikan is unaware of.

"Fine," she concedes after a long pause.

"I'm _still _not acknowledging the bear, though."

* * *

Mikan plops down on a chair, exhausted.

They have just finished their work for the day; a legion of small wooden shapes lie on the table in front of Mikan, lacking nothing but a coat of paint.

She gestures to Natsume with a limp hand.

"C'mere."

Leaning on the edge of the table, Natsume cringes at the motion. "What am I, a dog?"

"What, did I just score another hit on almighty Russia?"

He shoots her a dark look.

"_Don't_ count on it."

"Ugh, fine."

She groans as she relaxes her head on the wall.

Natsume finally leaves the table, and makes his way to the coffee machine at the back of the room.

'_Double cream, no sugar,' he_ recites in his mind as he brews the coffee, and it follows with a bemused, sarcastically thought, final component, '_and_ _smiley face with chocolate sprinkles on the foam._'

When finished, he brings the coffee cups to where she is resting, and a half-asleep Mikan accepts the cup with an unforced smile.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The brief exchange is also natural, a great contrast to the first time he had made her coffee.

He cannot help but sigh at the fact that the atmosphere outside is not the only thing which has changed within a week.

* * *

Before he knows it, she is fast asleep in her chair, her mouth slightly hanging open.

Carefully, he pulls the empty cup out of her hand and takes it to the back desk, and when he turns back his eyes chance upon the incomplete toy on the workbench. He glances at his watch-ten thirty. After a measure of light, teasing prodding, he concludes that Mikan is unlikely to wake up anytime soon.

Natsume walks towards the bench and analyses the incomplete wooden doll-it is missing a few features he is sure he can create without much difficulty- and after a quick glance in the sleeping toymaker's direction, he picks up the carving tool and quietly gets to work.

* * *

Mikan wakes up to a strange feeling against her head. She stirs, and with half-lidded eyes, stares at the pillow beneath her head.

"_I don't recall having a pillow here…_"

The light sound of footsteps alert her, as she sits up and sees Natsume slipping on his jacket, ready to leave.

"Natsume…?" Mikan slurs, still recovering from waking up so suddenly.

"You're awake now," he comments offhandedly. He makes a move towards the shop entrance.

She looks around the room, before asking, "What time is it?"

"Two o'clock."

Hearing the time makes her instantly stand up from her seat, but the blood rush gained from such a rapid movement makes her dizzy, as she places a hand on her head and groans.

"It's late. Why haven't you left?" She questions with a croaky voice as she slowly regains her composure.

"I had some last minute things to complete."

Mikan squints. "What things-"

"You're right. I should be home by now."

He walks towards the doorway of the workshop, when Mikan calls out to him.

"Wait, about your third task."

Natsume stops in his steps and turns around expectantly.

"Help me make them happy," she simply states. "The orphans. Help me give them the toys we've been making. How's nine in the morning next Sunday sound?"

He nods silently in reply.

"Where will we meet?"

"Here, of course! It's easier to meet up like this. We'll just go together. I don't suppose you know where the orphanage is, after all. _Do you?_"

He shrugs off her question, forces a smile and nods. "I'll be here," Natsume says before quickly dashing out of the store, a blank, dark look on his face.

'_She doesn't know that I do know where it is.'_

Mikan breaks her gaze away from his retreating figure as she notices something on the bench. As she approaches it, her breathing temporarily hitches.

"Is this the toy I was making earlier?" She mumbles to herself, as she turns it around in her hands.

She remembers that the soldier in her hands was missing half a body when she had decided to stop working.

The toy in her hands is complete, its legs completely carved out, and ready for painting, albeit slightly rough around the edges.

Her eyes glance back at the door in which Natsume had just exited, and recalls that he had mentioned tasks that he had to complete.

Mikan cannot help but laugh quietly. "Maybe…"

She shakes her head.

"_No way_."

* * *

A/N:_ Well, there's another chapter, folks. While I spent all of my day vomiting my guts out, Jess managed this delightful piece almost entirely by herself. Kudos to her._

_-Theo._

_You wouldn't believe how incoherent this chapter was before editing. Thanks to Theo for clearing (every)thing up. Haha. That is all. _

-_Jess._

Us both:_ It's like we're trying to outdo each other with the compliments here. (God.) __S'all, for now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as we enjoyed writing it!_


	6. Chapter Five: The Third Task

_**Disclaimed.**_

* * *

Mikan looks at Natsume's black executive sedan with disdain.

"Did you _really _have to bring the Benz?" She asks while pointing at the expensive car, exasperated. "It's only a twenty minute walk."

He stares at her questioningly, with raised eyebrows.

"Do you _really_ think we can lug those," he snorts as he gestures towards four large sacks of toys, "to the orphanage _on foot_ without killing ourselves?"

She huffs, placing her hands on her hips and staring intensely at the sacks.

"Well, we _did_ have a van last year…" She mumbles, then eventually concedes. "Fine, I guess. Help me move those toys into the boot then, will you?"

He hides a smirk as he pops the boot open using his remote key, a heavy sack of toys thrown over his shoulder.

* * *

"So," he begins, his hand grabbing a box from the back seat before starting the engine, "have you had breakfast?"

The engine purrs to life, as Mikan leans back into her leather seat.

"Nope. I'm not really that hungry, though. Besides, we're getting free food at the orphanage, anyway."

Natsume raises an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Of course."

He nods, as he lifts the lid of the box with his free hand and picks up a jam donut, immediately taking a big bite as soon as the car moves smoothly off the side of the road.

Natsume can see Mikan's eyes widen at the sight in his peripheral vision, and he watches with amusement as her hand moves towards her stomach unconsciously.

She sighs. "Natsum-"

"What? I thought you said you weren't hungry."

"Okay, maybe I _am_."

He cannot help but chuckle as he gestures to the box. "Fine. Help yourself."

Mikan is quick in grabbing her first donut, and upon her first bite, a smile appears on her jam covered lips. As she licks the sticky substance off with her tongue, she cannot help but thank him gratefully, bits of chewed donut still evidently present as she opens her mouth to do so.

Natsume cringes in mock disgust, as his eyes move off the road to look at her for a moment. "Hey. Don't talk with your mouth full. You'll get jam on my dashboard if this goes on any further," he teases.

A moment passes before her smile becomes devilish, and she begins to wave the donut dangerously over the dashboard.

His head snaps towards her, as the car swerves slightly.

"Mikan, don't you _dare _move any further," Natsume's voice, laced with worry, warns as he eases the car back into the lane.

It fails to intimidate her.

"What? Are you going to get angry if I get your precious Benz dirty?" She giggles, unwavering.

His voice is forced. "Yes, I will, so move that donut away from the dashboard this instant."

"Why should I?" Mikan taunts, enjoying watching him acting frustrated.

"Because…" Natsume grits his teeth, unable to break his stare off the donut in her hand. "I will stop the car right now if you don't."

She gasps. "You wouldn't."

It is his turn to smirk, with the upper hand. "I _would_."

"If you're actually going to do that, I swear I will- _red light!_"

Caught off-guard, he immediately stomps on the brake, and as the car stops they can both feel themselves lurching forward from the inertia.

"Ah, shit," Natsume grumbles as he leans his forehead on the wheel. "You got jam all over my baby."

She eyes the dashboard, confused until she sees the small smudge in front of her.

Mikan shrugs sheepishly. "Well, you did stop the car like you'd said, right?"

He hands her a tissue with a grim look on his face.

"_Clean it_."

A strange silence settles in the car as it begins to move again.

"Sorry. I wasn't actually planning to do it," the brunette apologises, as she rubs off the last remains of the jam.

"And I wasn't planning to stop so suddenly," he replies monotonously, his eyes now completely glued on the road.

Mikan groans at his reply. "Why do you sound so serious about getting jam on the dash? You could cut the tension in this car with a knife."

Natsume smirks a little, unable to hide his amusement.

She looks at him quizzically. "What?"

The tension from his shoulders dissipate, as he notes, "I'm just screwing with you."

Mikan relaxes into her seat, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.

"You're _still_ paying if it stains, though."

She moves to place a hand on her forehead in exasperation.

'_Men._'

* * *

It is when he turns into the driveway of the orphanage that Mikan finally notices something strange.

"Wait, I don't think I actually directed you here…" She mutters, cocking her head. "How did you know the location?"

"Dunno, probably the GPS," he shrugs, gesturing to the small handset.

Mikan is skeptical. "I didn't really see you looking at it, though. You seemed really concentrated on the road, or my donut otherwise."

The pianist effortlessly changes the subject, his shoulders tense. "Consider yourself lucky that I don't see anything on my dashboard now."

"Jeez, it was just jam. It's not like I drilled a hole in it or anything…"

Natsume is relieved that she seems to have forgotten the matter, and quickly acts upon preventing her to remember again.

"Are we going in or what?"

"Oh, sure," She crosses her arms and playfully narrows her eyes at him. "Use the fact that we're here as an excuse to get out of this conversation. You're _plenty_ mature, Natsume."

His grip tightens on the wheel unconsciously. "What are you on about?" He forces out, worried that she had caught on, after all.

Mikan scoffs amusedly. "You don't want to admit that the jam was really no big deal, _do you_? Russia's looking good today."

The pianist can feel himself relaxing in his seat. "Is that really important?" He asks, hiding his relief.

Mikan looks at the orphanage, then points at him. "Fine. I'll let you get away with it this time. But just remember that I won't be letting this go," she emphasises before stepping out of the car.

He quietly shrugs, before following her out with an exasperated expression on his face.

'_Women._'

* * *

As soon as they enter the orphanage with bags slung over their shoulders, they can hear the sound of laughing children from the other end of the hallway.

Natsume cannot help but allow his eyes to scan the ceilings, the floors, the pasty green wallpaper. It is exactly how he remembers it from his last visit, and he can still clearly recall the last time he had walked down the same hallway.

His grip on the bag considerably tightens, his knuckles turning white.

Mikan, unaware of his tension, turns around and gives him a warning look.

"I still haven't forgotten about the jam."

Somehow, her amusedly irrational words are able to calm him down, even allowing him to roll his eyes. "Of course you haven't. You said the same thing one minute ago. If you haven't noticed already, I'm not a _goldfish_."

"Funny, Natsume, because you're-" She pauses in her words, finally noticing the whiteness of his knuckles. "Why are you holding the bag so tightly? You look… tense."

He quietly looks away.

"It's nothing."

A pink haired woman walks down the hallway at this point, interrupting the moment.

"Ah, Mikan! You're here early," the woman greets.

Mikan smiles warmly, and walks over to shake the newcomer's hand.

"It's nice to see you, Anna. I'm early because I managed to get a ride," she says as she looks in Natsume's direction, acknowledging his help.

Anna notices Natsume, and is slightly startled. She greets him with a warm smile.

"Mister Hyuuga," she speaks, in simple recognition.

He nods tersely.

Mikan looks up at him, a questioning expression on her features.

"How do you know Anna?" She asks, completely confused.

He pointedly ignores Mikan, and instead looks in Anna's direction.

"Anna, we've brought toys as Christmas presents. Want to gather the kids so we can give them out?"

Anna fixes him with another bright smile.

"Sure, Mister Hyuuga. Why don't you and Mikan wait in the hall while I call the children up?"

As soon as Anna walks off to begin rounding up the orphans, Mikan fixes Natsume with a steely look.

"Care to explain how you know the _caretaker_ of this orphanage?"

Natsume simply shrugs and makes for the hall, the sacks of toys slung over his shoulders.

* * *

As the children swarm to both him and Mikan, Natsume gives them the friendliest grin he can muster and commences in picking out toys and handing them to the kids. The previously present tension of his jaw begins to relax as he catches the overjoyed smiles of the orphans in the room, as they immediately start to play with their new toys.

No matter how much he tries to distract himself, however, he cannot forget the one prominent memory pushed to the back of his mind.

On the other hand, Mikan is too taken by the children to notice his discomfort. Natsume watches her with a wistful smile on his face as she hands out toy after toy to the excited children, who are all but clambering all over her.

The pianist is distracted from his reverie when a small child tugs at his jeans.

As he looks down, he is greeted by a toothy grin.

"Mister Hyuuga, do you have anything cool in that bag? I want something that looks awesome."

Natsume thinks for a moment, then reaches deep into the bag.

He takes out a toy soldier and hands it to the boy.

"How about a soldier, then?" He asks gently.

The boy shakes his head.

"Something fiercer! Like an animal, or something!"

A sudden gleam enters Natsume's eyes, as he reaches into another bag and takes out a bear- the very same bear that he crafted the week before- and hands it to the dumbstruck boy.

"Those eyes- wow! This is _awesome_!"

Natsume leans over and pats the child on the head, ruffling his dirty blonde hair lightly.

"Treasure it, alright?" He murmurs to the boy, a whisper of a smile on his lips. He turns to look at Mikan. "I made this with the help of Big Sis Mikan over there. Why don't you go over and thank her for the toys too?"

Mikan looks up at the sudden mention of her name, and is greeted by a huge glomp from the young boy.

"Now, now," she laughs as she returns the hug lightly, "what brought this on?"

The boy points in Natsume's direction. He is too busy hand-picking a toy for another orphan to notice.

"Mister Hyuuga over there asked me to thank you. He said you helped him with this bear!"

She looks down at the bear in the boy's hands, and a warm look of recognition appears on her face.

"_You're welcome._"

* * *

Natsume sits himself on one of two wooden chairs, while Mikan, occupying the other, folds the now empty bags and piles them on the table leisurely.

Before she is able to question him about his suspicious behaviour earlier, Anna arrives with two mugs of coffee.

"Thank you so much for coming here and making their Christmas a happy one," the pink haired woman sincerely affirms as she gently passes them the mugs.

"Of course we came, you don't have to thank us," Mikan reassures as she brings the cup closer to her lips, "seeing them happy is more than enough reason to."

"But Mikan, you've been doing this for years, to the point that this is their favourite time of the year, and I cannot sincerely-"

"No, Anna, please don't, I insist-"

Natsume notes that intervening in the excessive affirmations between the two would not be best idea, and so instead he remains silent, sipping his coffee.

The two women eventually give up one upping each other, and Anna excuses herself to take care of matters.

The two are left in the room, alone.

Natsume quietly indulges himself in the hot coffee, not noticing this, until Mikan's voice grabs his attention.

"Natsume, I said that I'd remember. Now speak."

The pianist looks up in search of reinforcement, but realises that Anna has long left the room during his moment to himself.

He sighs, before answering, "Although I'm very much concerned about the state of my car-"

"I don't care about the car anymore," she interrupts, shaking her head, "because I'm pretty sure you know what I actually mean. Now, mind telling me why you're so good with kids, for one?"

"I was also a kid once, Mikan," Natsume continues, clearly trying to deflect her question.

She huffs in reply, clearly exasperated.

"_Please_ stop joking around. I'm pretty serious when I ask you this. You've been looking really pale ever since we arrived here."

She fixes him with an intense look.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, it's just… It's worrying to see you out of sorts, alright?" She eventually admits.

He raises his eyebrows in astonishment, not expecting her words. "Do you really care so much?"

Elbows on the table, she shrugs, staring intently at the coffee in her mug as she begrudgingly mutters, "you're my friend, aren't you?"

He looks at her, vaguely amused.

"I am?"

She fixes him with a glare, and he stops his teasing in its tracks.

His features eventually soften, as he gives in.

"I guess it's no use hiding it from you, then."

She looks at him expectantly.

"I'm... an orphan. My caretaker back then said she found me on the streets of Tokyo as a baby. I have no idea who my relatives are, what they did, or what happened to my parents. I've essentially been like this all my life."

Mikan's grip on her mug slackens, as she looks on in shock at his outburst.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Since I've told you part of my _story_ already, I might as well finish it," he cuts in, not letting her finish.

She nods dumbly in reply.

Natsume inhales deeply, and continues.

"I never got any toys as a child, and the orphanage was often cold and nearly inhospitable during the winters. Ever since I got my scholarship to study music at the Parisian Conservatory, I've been making occasional donations to this orphanage whenever I'm able to, so that the kids here won't suffer as much as I did back then. That is why Anna knows me, and why I was so uncomfortable."

He rises from his seat and moves to lean against a nearby wall.

"Happy with that explanation?"

She is unable to look him in the face.

"Natsume, I'm-"

"Yeah, you're sorry," the pianist sighs. "It's fine. I'm over the bitterness," he eventually mutters, his expression neutral.

He looks back up at her, and catches her quick glance in his direction.

"Well, now," he continues, "I snuck out of the orphanage ten years ago, and stumbled on Izumi's store."

"That's why you wanted the robot?"

"Yes, _Sherlock_."

Mikan cannot help but smile.

"_Still snarking around while the mood's so grim, huh?_"

A ghost of a smile appears on Natsume's face in response.

"Well, now that I'm done with my life story, how about a few questions of my own?"

"I guess I owe you _that_ much…" Mikan sighs.

He looks back at her.

"I told you I was born in _Tokyo. _I met Izumi while he was still running a toy store in _Tokyo._ So, mind telling me what you guys are doing in _Paris_, of all places?"

She exhales deeply, before muttering, "You're probably expecting more than a simple 'I moved', huh?"

Natsume nods.

"Well…" Mikan hesitates, "when I was ten, and still in Tokyo, my father became really sick, to the point where he couldn't work with the precision he used to have as a toy maker. I was too young to contribute much. Plus, I was still schooling back then, and he wasn't able to work as well as usual, and so we weren't placed in a good position."

The pianist thinks back to when he had seen Izumi a week prior, and even when knowing of his illness, he hadn't detected anything other than age wearing him down.

The brunette continues her explanation.

"However, my father's friend in Paris had a country house, and he extended an invitation for him to live here, so that he'd be able to rest and recover during his retirement. So," she shrugs, "that's it really. We came to Paris, and we haven't left since."

Throughout the whole tale, Natsume cannot help but remain thinking of one question.

"Is your father... still sick?"

Solemnly, she nods once. "Yeah, he is. Rather, he's feeling worse than before."

He watches her grim expression. "I'm-"

"You're sorry?" Mikan quietly chuckles. "It's fine."

She shrugs, then continues.

"I guess we're even, huh?"

Natsume cannot help the slight curving of his lips.

"Guess we are."

Suddenly, Mikan looks at him and points at his empty mug.

"Alright, enough with the depressing topics for today. Want to get more coffee?"

He shrugs, and walks towards her.

"Sure. Let's find Anna."

* * *

The two are guided by Anna to the playroom, to say goodbye to the orphans before leaving.

As Mikan bends down and embraces the children one by one, Natsume pats their heads, a wistful smile on his face. While he continues with his farewells, a large object in the corner of the room attracts his eye, its stained-wood profile contrasting with the pasty green walls around it.

He turns to Anna. "I never knew you had a piano here."

"Ah, we actually received this as a donation a little after your last visit. Unfortunately, not many kids know how to play. None of the staff here can play, either, let alone teach."

Natsume walks over to the piano in the corner, and places his hand on the lid. It creaks open as he lifts it gently, and he cringes.

"Wow, this thing is _old._"

Anna can only laugh in response.

"You know how it is with donations, Mister Hyuuga."

He nods, a faraway look on his face.

Mikan approaches the piano, and stops slightly behind Natsume.

"Want to play something for them, _Maestro_?" She playfully asks, cocking her head to the side.

"You know, I'm normally paid for recitals," he chuckles, turning back to look at the children and smiling. Eventually, he concedes without reluctance. "Well, I guess a few songs wouldn't kill."

The orphans cheer and eagerly seat themselves on the floor around Natsume as he immediately takes on a professional pose. He runs his fingers over the keys in practiced fashion, playing a short scale.

"Jesus, this piece of junk is out of tune," he grimaces.

Mikan slaps him on the back.

"We're not asking for _Liszt_! It doesn't need to be perfect. Just play something simple."

He smirks, and obliges, proceeding to play the opening of 'Chopsticks'.

Mikan looks at him incredulously.

"You're a _concert pianist._ I know I said something simple, but _'Chopsticks'_? Really?"

He chuckles, and proceeds to improvise over the base tune effortlessly, his fingers gliding over the keys as they move up and down the keyboard in an almost virtuosic fashion.

Mikan, Anna and the orphans can only watch on in awe as he begins to turn a previously simple tune into a ridiculously complex, yet beautifully woven masterpiece.

Eventually, he comes to the end of his improvisation, and closes with a final playthrough of the simple, unembellished tune.

As he plays the final note, Natsume turns to the brunette. "That good enough for you?"

Mikan laughs, as the rest of his audience break into cheers at his performance.

"_More _than enough."

As the children begin to swarm the pianist, he begins another song, this time a simple, Christmas-themed tune.

'_Deck the halls with boughs of holly...'_

* * *

The black Benz draws to a stop in front of the toy store.

"I guess we're done for today, huh?" Natsume asks, as Mikan begins to disembark.

The brunette looks back at him wordlessly, and smiles, closing the door behind her and walking towards the entrance of the store. As she is about to enter the shop, she hears a voice from behind.

"Wait!"

Mikan turns around and sees Natsume, who is standing behind his sedan, having gotten out.

"Hmm?" She arches an eyebrow curiously.

"You know, you haven't told me about my fourth task yet."

"Are you that eager, you _masochist_?"

Natsume smirks.

"Don't bet on it. I just want my robot."

Mikan pauses, then puts her fingers to her chin in thought.

"Well, your next task…" She trails off, and as a nervous smile appears on her face, she admits, "I haven't actually thought about it yet."

He looks at her incredulously.

"_Seriously_?"

She laughs shakily, running her hands through her hair.

"Eh, well, I'll call you when I get an idea."

Natsume can do little more than rest his head against the doorframe of his prized car as Mikan waves a cheery farewell to him and disappears into the store.

* * *

A/N: _Alright, another chapter down. As always, Jess was amazing in this chapter as both an author and editor. For those curious about the side characters (Ruka, Hotaru), they're going to be appearing soon. Very soon. _

_-Theo._

A/N: _I'm not even going to bother arguing with Theo (though he did write most of it because of time zones and my bed time [yes, I have a bed time]), because I feel that our author's notes resemble Mikan and Anna's unyielding affirmation exchange in this chapter. Also, my new catch phrase in regards to this collab - 'CHANT FOR THE END'. I don't know either._

_-Jess._

Additional notes: _For those interested, Natsume drives a Mercedes C63 AMG Sedan in Magnetite Black Magnetic. (Yes, I am a bit of a petrol head.) (Cue Jess going 'was that really necessary?') _

_Also, if you're interested in the version of 'Chopsticks' that Natsume plays, a good reference would be to watch Kurt Hugo Schneider's 'Chopsticks' on YouTube, as arranged and played by Andrew Johnson. That's the version I took inspiration from. _

_Lastly, for those who are unclear about the prologue, it's set in Japan. Natsume has grown up to become a concert pianist based in Paris, and Mikan and her father are naturalized French citizens, having lived for ten years in the country._

_-Theo._

* * *

P.S: _And if you were confused about the prologue, don't worry. For a while, I was too. Guilty._

_-Jess._

..._My fault._

_-Theo._


	7. Chapter Six

_**Disclaimed.**_

* * *

Mikan sips a glass of grape juice as she glances around the colorfully decorated room. Various strangers, whom Mikan assumes are her host Narumi's friends, are busy socialising with each other over small appetisers and wine. Sighing lightly at the lavishness of the setting, she heads to a nearby wall and leans against it, resuming her observation of the activity in the room. A glance to the side reveals that her father is standing near the wall, engaged in a seemingly interesting conversation with an older man in a tacky green and red sweater. The brunette shrugs, and immediately decides that she would leave Izumi for the time being and socialise herself.

As soon as she decides to do so, her eyes notice her blonde friend approaching. She relaxes back into the wall, greeting him as he comes up to her.

"Ruka."

"Hey, Mikan," he replies warmly. "How's the party?"

She chuckles.

"A _little bit_ too extravagant for my taste. Wasn't this supposed to be a 'small' after-Christmas gathering?"

He grins in response.

"Mikan, this is _Narumi_ we're talking about. This is about as _small_ as a gathering hosted by him would probably get."

Mikan cannot help but smile in response.

"_Touché."_

The pair lapse into a comfortable silence for a while, observing the events around them.

Eventually, Ruka restarts the conversation.

"So, how was your Christmas?"

"It was great!" She happily perks up. "Even though Dad spent the entire morning finding discarded baubles in the back room and arranging them into a pathetic adaptation of a Christmas tree, it was as fun as usual. He was also really excited about this party, too."

Ruka follows her eyes to see Izumi laughing at something the man in the knitted sweater had said. "He looks happy to be here. That's great to know."

Mikan cannot help but smile. "It is."

A brief moment passes, as she cannot redirect her stare from the image of her happy father, but she eventually breaks out of her slight reverie and turns back to face Ruka.

"How about you?" She rapidly asks to grab his attention. "Did you go anywhere this Christmas?"

He shrugs. "Besides a dinner with the family, I've been busy practicing for most of the week."

The brunette cannot help but admire his dedication. "For a concert?"

"I'm going to be performing in a New Year's Eve concert with the orchestra," he replies matter-of-factly.

He pauses, and suddenly looks up at Mikan. "That reminds me, I've been wanting to invite you to attend for some time. I just couldn't find the opportunity to."

Mikan shifts through her mind, recalling her available days. "On what date will it be?"

Ruka raises an eyebrow as he states, "Um, New Year's Eve?"

Realising what she has just said, Mikan laughs sheepishly.

"Oh. That's right."

In a hasty attempt to change the subject, her voice brightens. "Of course, I'll come to support you!" She pats his shoulder enthusiastically as he can only smile in amusement.

"Thank you for being able to come, really," the blonde says, in a genuine tone.

"I'm already looking forward to it!" She cannot contain her excitement. "Looks like I'll finally be able to see you perform again. It's been a while, huh?"

He nods cheerily at her enthusiastic response. Before he can reply, Mikan continues.

"How are rehearsals, anyway?"

He nods again. "Pretty rigorous, but we're progressing well, I suppose. I think we'll be prepared for anything the concert could possibly throw at us."

Ruka looks away for a moment, and soon recalls something. "Ah, and also, there's this new clarinetist…"

Mikan can immediately tell from his hesitant tone and his slightly giddy smile that there is a reason why he had brought the clarinetist up.

She sends him a knowing look, and the blonde reacts with a forced expression of skepticism.

"Why are you making that expression?"

"Well, for one, you rarely, if _ever_, talk about new instrumentalists, Ruka."

She pokes him.

"Go on, tell me what she's like!" Her features turn innocent as she pleads.

"I _really_ don't like that expression of yours," he sighs as he looks down at his glass of water.

Mikan groans in exasperation. "But you were going to tell me all about her!"

"How did you even know the clarinetist in question was a _woman_?"

The brunette decides not to comment on the fact that his expression gave it all away, and simply waits wordlessly for his response.

Ruka sighs again, this time in resignation. "Well, she plays really, _really_ well. Apparently, she's a Japanese student that managed to get a scholarship to study in the Conservatory over here in Paris. She tells me that an acquaintance of hers invited her to join the orchestra on a trial basis. I have a strong feeling she'll probably become the section's leader once she joins us full-time."

Mikan looks at him amusedly. "So, you have a crush on her or something? You're praising her like she's a child of God."

Ruka looks at his brunette friend incredulously, then shakes his head vigorously. "No, nothing of the sort! It's just that she's new to the city and might need some help fitting in here. So, I was wondering if you could, maybe…"

Mikan looks at him curiously. "You want me to help her out?"

Ruka nods sheepishly. "It's a little bit of a tall order, and I'll understand if you refuse, but you _did_ move from Tokyo as well and all, so maybe…"

Mikan giggles at his shy reply. "Why not? I'd love to have a new friend. So, when do you plan to let me meet this mystery clarinetist of yours?"

His eyes take on a faraway look for a moment, in thought, before his gaze eventually settles back on his friend.

"How about at your birthday party, then? It's the day after the concert, and we're all free. I could bring her along. The more the merrier, after all."

Mikan nods at him, and replies, "Why not?"

Ruka grins, absolutely thrilled at her response. "Thank you, Mikan."

"I'm looking forward to meeting and becoming friends with your _date_," she teases, and once again Ruka's expression becomes aghast.

"She isn't my date! I told you, I'm just helping her out!" He replies earnestly, slightly flustered. Eventually, he is able to calm himself down enough to deflect the topic. "It's not like I'm giving her twelve impossible demands in exchange for a robot."

Mikan looks at him skeptically, and Ruka hides his smile at her falling for the bait.

"What? Do you see me as an evil dictator? You do know they're not actually 'impossible', right?"

He stifles a chuckle.

"Of course, I just find the whole thing amusing. How is it coming along, anyway?"

She ponders for a moment, before replying, "It's… fine."

Strangely, Mikan cannot think of a way to describe the odd turn of events, as well as her changing relationship with Natsume. Even though a word such as 'fine' was hardly sufficient, she brings herself to say it, knowing that either way, Ruka's curiosity would spark.

"Is that all you're going to give me?" The blonde bemusedly asks.

Mikan nods, and after sipping her grape juice, glances back at him. "So… how is the _maestro_ during rehearsals?"

Ruka snorts at her snide remark. "He's been hauling overtime these past few weeks, and he's even had discussions with the conductor over dinner. Or at least, that's what I've heard."

The brunette finds it rather easy to believe, despite Ruka being unsure of his own story.

"Of course he is," she mutters under her breath.

Ruka perks up. "What?"

"It seems typical of Natsume to be like that," Mikan comments, and he nods in response.

"He pushes himself too much, in my opinion. I hope he's had a relaxing Christmas break."

As the brunette grunts in agreement, she thinks to herself.

'_He really does sound like he needs a break.'_

* * *

Eventually, the party draws to a close, as the tipsy and drunk guests stumble one after another out of the venue. Unfortunately for Mikan, she is not spared from the burden of bringing a drunk Izumi home, as he had not paid attention to his alcohol consumption over the course of the party.

"Let's go, it's getting late," she murmurs to Izumi, placing his arm around her shoulders and bearing his weight.

"Yeah, we need to hurry to we can say goodnight to them…" He slurs, his head bobbing slightly.

"To Narumi and Ruka?"

"To the toys!"

The brunette sighs. "You're definitely drunk, Dad. Why did I not expect this?"

"I could drive you two home," Ruka appears from behind her and offers.

Mikan shakes her head. "Oh no, we can't burden you like that. We're planning to take the bus."

Ruka stares at her skeptically. "I don't think it would be wise to take a drunk man home by bus, and it isn't a bother. Your home is on the way, after all."

She sighs in relief. "Thank you, Ruka-"

"You're not going yet!" A slurred voice interrupts, and they turn to see a slightly stumbling Narumi approach them. "You two should help me clean up!"

At the state of their host, it is evident to them that he is in no state to clean up, even with help. Ruka and Mikan look at each other, and sigh in resignation.

As Narumi stumbles forward, Ruka immediately catches him.

"Narumi, you really should sit down," he urges, as he leads him to a nearby chair and seats him down.

"Thank you, _mon prince charmant_…" The older blonde hiccups, as Mikan approaches and seats her father in the chair beside the host.

"Where can we find the brooms in this house?" The brunette sighs as she disdainfully scans the messy room.

"I think there was a closet of them in the next room," Ruka replies as he leads her to it.

Meanwhile, Narumi sends Izumi a blissful smile and nudges him in the arm. "Look, Izumi, they're going to the closet."

Izumi merely hiccups in response.

"To the _closet_." Narumi repeats dramatically, and the brown haired male turns to him, confused.

"What's in the closet… _what is a closet_? Can it be eaten?"

"No," the flamboyant blonde scoffs in reply. "They're going in there because they know they're destined for each other!" He turns and calls out to the pair. "Mikan! Ruka! I'm expecting kids as beautiful as me!"

"No, Narumi. We're not going to have kids, because all we're doing is getting brooms to clean this damn room up," Mikan mutters under her breath. Ruka raises an eyebrow at her uncharacteristic quip.

Having learnt to ignore Narumi's outward comments about his wish for them to date, the cleaning pair merely sigh at the rest of the conversation they cannot help but overhear, all while sweeping the place up.

Izumi shakes his head at Narumi's response. "But Narumi, you don't know Natsume!"

"Natsume? What's that?"

"Mikan's been working with him in the shop. I think Mikan's type is more of a tall, dark and handsome pianist! I should know this! I'm her _father_!" He raises his arms in a strange victory pose, "A father knows everything about his daughter!"

The brunette forces herself to continue working despite her father's unexpected comment, and the bright red blush on her cheeks.

Narumi laughs at his friend's words. "But Izumi, no man could ever be more of a match for Mikan than Ruka-pyon!"

"Ruka-pyon?" The subject in question mutters incredulously to himself, surprised that Narumi can still remember Mikan's old childish nickname for him.

Narumi continues his tirade. "She calls him Ruka-pyon, it's obviously her pet name for him!"

Izumi huffs in response. "So what? She has a pet name for Natsume too!"

"It can't be better than Ruka-pyon!"

"Mikan calls him 'idiot'!"

The cleaning pair exchange exasperated glances with each other.

"Natsume finished making her toy for her! It's proof that he can take over the family business! They'll be lovey-dovey by the time this is over!"

"Ruka's been her man for ten years! What can this Natsume dork do to break such a long lasting love affair?"

"He makes her favourite coffee for her every night he's over! He even adds the cute smiley face with sprinkles!" Izumi stares at Narumi with dead seriousness. "A true suitor for my daughter will always add a smiley face to every single coffee he makes."

"But Izumi, _look! _Can't you see how cute they look right now! They're sweeping the floor in sync!"

As the grown men continue in their drunken argument, Ruka sends her a questioning look as he states, "so, you said that you and Natsume were 'fine'."

Mikan can only blush helplessly in response.

* * *

Mikan holds the concert program tightly as she fidgets in her seat in anticipation. Opening her program booklet, she eyes the pieces in slight awe, even as the orchestra begins to flood onto stage.

'_This looks like it's going to be an amazing night._'

As she looks up, she meets gazes with the couple seated beside her.

"Hello," she greets them enigmatically, "are you here to see anyone in particular?"

"Not really," the female replies, "I've always loved attending concerts since I was little. So we're just here to watch. How about you?"

"Ah," Mikan gestures to the stage. "My close friend is the concertmaster-"

Eventually, the spotlights on the stage come on, bringing their brief conversation to a halt. The orchestra rises, welcoming their their conductor onto stage.

After a quick tuning, led by Ruka, the orchestra eventually begins their first piece, Ravel's _Boléro. _She silently cheers for her blonde friend as he effortlessly leads the orchestra with the finesse of his playing. However, at times Mikan's attention sways as she watches on in awe at the various instruments coming in one after another, repeating the beautiful loop of notes again and again ever so enchantingly. The entrancing melody eventually overpowers Mikan-she can feel the elevating of her heart beat in correspondence to the soaring melodies, and before she knows it, the orchestra is done with the first piece, the rising crescendo eventually drawing to a close.

As the audience roars in applause, she looks down at her lap and realises that she has been holding the program far too tightly in her hands. After a deep breath out, Mikan is able to release the crumpled piece of paper, and ready herself for the next performance.

Short moments later, a grand piano is wheeled onto the stage, and Mikan intently watches on as Natsume appears, and the conductor, alongside Ruka, move forward to greet him.

He is eventually seated at the head of the piano in all his finery, and gives the signal to the conductor, who then launches into the second piece- Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.

The thundering opening chords accompanied by Natsume's virtuosic playing eventually all but enrapture Mikan, and she cannot help but watch on in wide-eyed amazement as Natsume plows across the keys with the elegance and technical perfection of a true professional, hammering out note after note in tune and time with the rest of the orchestra.

Mikan notes, at this point, that this is the first time she has actually seen the dark-haired pianist perform _seriously_, and realises that his complex rendition of 'Chopsticks' at the orphanage was in fact nothing in comparison to what she is currently witnessing.

Eventually, the piece draws to a climactic close, the built up intensity of the entire song drawing to a peak as the orchestra powerfully blasts out the final notes to the tune.

During the intermission, she chooses to converse with the friendly couple seated beside her in the hall.

"Your friend is talented," the male compliments, "do you play an instrument?"

"A little bit of piano, but I've never had the talent for music he has. I do like listening to it, though."

"What's your favourite piece?"

Her reply is quick and rather instinctive to her lips. "Chopsticks."

As soon as Mikan replies, she feels bewildered by herself, as she thinks back to Natsume's performance at the orphanage. She realises then, as the couple nod amusedly at her answer, that she never really held an interest in the light, childish piece until he had played it that day.

Still in awe at herself, Mikan quietly returns to the hall in time for the final piece of the night.

As she sits in her seat, awaiting the performance, Natsume suddenly turns in his seat and his eyes meet hers. Mikan is caught off guard as he quickly smiles at her before turning away just as abruptly. The ends of her mouth lift in response, but in the end she is unsure if her recognition has been recognised.

When the crowd eventually settles, the orchestra resumes their work, exploding into the opening of Rachmaninoff's Third Piano Concerto with quiet intensity. Natsume follows up shortly after, his single, spaced notes ringing out over the concert hall. Eventually, the complexity of the piece catches up to him, and he explodes into a flurry of blistering movement across the keyboard, as the orchestra backs up his extraordinary playing. The look of concentration on most of the instrumentalist's faces is contrasted with the look of sheer enjoyment on Natsume's, as the song progresses through its many crescendos and tricky passages.

Mikan cannot break her stare away from the immersed pianist. Not even for the intensity of the orchestra's instrumentalists, nor the performance of her close friend.

"Wow, that pianist is amazing!" Mikan can barely hear the woman beside her exclaim.

She cannot help but mutter a '_yes, he is_' quietly to herself, in response.

The song eventually reaches an explosive climax, the entire orchestra exploding into what seems like unbridled fury, before finally a drawing to a slow, elegant, yet equally fiery close, a mirror of the concerto's calm but intense opening.

As the final note is played, and it reverberates across the concert hall, the audience rises to their feet, impressed at the stellar performance. Mikan herself cannot remove the awestruck grin off her face, as she rises to join the ovation, clearly impressed.

As the instrumentalists bow in unison, and the pianist and conductor take their leave, her eyes meet Natsume's once again, and this time she makes sure that he sees her smile.

Her eyes light up at that moment, as she realizes that she has the perfect idea for Natsume's fourth task.

'_He needs a break. No, scratch that. He __**deserves**__ a break._'

That night, when she eventually reaches home, sure that Natsume would pick up, she grabs her cellphone, and dials Natsume's number.

"Hey, Natsume. Are you free tomorrow?"

* * *

A/N: _Virtual hug and cookie to the person who can guess who the clarinetist is. I thank Jess for her amazing help for this chapter. She practically wrote it, honestly. I was struggling with the concert, and she just waltzes in and tidies everything up. So yeah, props to her. She's awesome. Also, I hope you enjoyed the shipping war. That was a joy to write. Or rather, it was a joy for me to watch as it came into existence, while it was a joy for Jess to write._

_-Theo._

A/N: _Do you really want a battle of affirmations, again? Haha. But in reality, ditto. The social awkwardness of Mikan and Ruka's conversation was fixed really well because of Theo's editing. But one thing we can both agree on is that writing the argument between Narumi and Izumi was just hilarious. I'm not even going to-_

_-Jess._

Additional Notes: _The three pieces played in order are: Maurice Ravel's Boléro, an extremely famous tune, followed by Sergei Rachmaninoff's 'Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini', another equally famous concerto, and then Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, a concerto which is known as one of the most technically demanding and challenging pieces to play in the standard classical repertoire. For those asking 'Why Ravel?', well, he's French. This is set in Paris. I suppose I just felt it would be pretty cool to have a French composer before they performed all the Russian pieces. As for, 'Why Rach'? I like Rach._

_-Theo._

A/N: _First a petrol head, now a classical buff. More like everything-buff._

_-Jess._


	8. Chapter Seven: The Fourth Task

**_Disclaimed._**

* * *

_"Hey, Natsume. Are you free tomorrow?" _Natsume hears the familiar, perky voice from his cellphone.

He cringes, groaning at her obscene volume.

Although her call is one that he has begrudgingly been waiting for, he is forced to admit that the suddenness of it all leaves him unable to react coherently. Not expecting the call to come that night, of all nights, it adds to the further shock of unexpectedly seeing her in the audience that evening.

"What- Mikan, you-"

"_Come to the store tomorrow, because I have your fourth task for you!"_ She orders him with the usual excitement emanating from her tone.

He immediately sits up in his seat, back straight, and unusually attentive. "What are you going to have me do this time?"

"_Just come, Natsume! You'll find out soon enough."_

Natsume rolls his eyes at her strange sense of urgency. "How do you even know I'm free tomorrow-"

"_I just do. Eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning at the shop. Be there."_

Before he can even force out a reply of any sort, she hangs up. He pulls the phone away from his ear, shaking his head in slight amusement. A call of his name by a staff member immediately pulls his attention away, as he offers a reflexive smile and greeting, but the wonder about the next task remains lingering at the back of his mind.

* * *

Mikan sights the familiar, jet black car, parking in front of the door as she tightens one of the screws of a recently-made toy. She absently sets down her tools as she makes her way towards the entrance, meeting him halfway with a smile.

He waves, silently acknowledging her greeting with a nod as he enters the store.

"So. Impressive performance last night," Mikan comments as she leans on the doorframe casually, turning the miniature lion in her hands, a grin on her face.

Natsume returns her grin with a small smile of his own and replies, "I didn't know you were going to be there."

"Ruka invited me."

He nods in understanding, recalling her friendship with the amiable concertmaster from his first encounter with her. The pianist glances around, and notices the small wooden lion in her hands.

"It's New Year's Day today, but you're still working?" Natsume asks, his questioning gaze fixated on the toy.

Mikan shrugs, absently adjusting the limbs of the toy. "I felt like making something this morning. It gets my mind off things, sometimes. Not that I actually have to be concerned about something when I do."

A small smile appears on her lips as she mutters, "I can't help the fact that I love what I do. Don't _you _like playing the piano?"

Natsume snorts, crossing his arms. "Of course, I do. Do you think I'd have dedicated my life to the instrument if I didn't?"

He receives a nod in response. "You're right. We're on the same page about that, I suppose."

Natsume eventually looks up at her, deciding to change the topic and get to business.

"You're being awfully chatty this morning."

She looks up at him, a comeback ready. "And just what do you mean by that?"

"Well, for one, you're still trying to keep conversation with me. Shouldn't we be getting down to my slave task for the day right about now?"

Her uneasy reaction throws Natsume slightly off-guard.

"Well… Uhm…" She runs a free hand through her hair absentmindedly.

Black eyebrows rise, as Natsume fixes her with a piercing stare.

"You better not have called me here for _fun, _Mikan." His eyes narrow in slight annoyance. "The only reason why I'm not in bed right now is because of this enigmatic fourth task of yours."

"I- You- We-" She helplessly tries to explain herself.

Natsume presses on, obvious amusement on his face from her floundering around. "Hmm?"

"I _have _a task, alright? Just wait," she pleads.

"What's with the secrecy?"

Mikan eventually gives up trying to justify her actions, and instead stomps in irritation. She returns his quizzical gaze with a glare of her own. "_Just_. _Wait._"

Natsume can only rest against a nearby wall in resignation, a palm on his forehead.

"_Fine._"

They remain silent for a good five minutes, Natsume's glower mostly being ignored by the toymaker as she continues her concentrated work on the toy.

Eventually, the bell at the door tinkles, signaling the arrival of more guests.

Natsume looks up, and he notices two familiar faces, one of which surprises him greatly. He can only gawk as the two newcomers cross the threshold into the shop, not having noticed him in the back corner.

"Ah, hey Ruka," comes Mikan's voice from the counter.

The concertmaster nods and smiles warmly, waving his response. His companion gives a small wave as well, shedding her dark coat in the process.

"And this must be that clarinetist friend of yours, yes?" Mikan continues.

Ruka offers a shy nod, and reaches into his coat, producing a box. His dark-haired friend also procures a box from her handbag, passing it to Ruka to hand over to Mikan.

"Happy Birthday, Mikan," the concertmaster greets, handing the gifts over to his delighted friend, then gesturing over to his companion. "And yes, this is my friend, Hotaru-"

Natsume is finally able to regain his composure, and interrupts abruptly from the back of the room.

"Imai? Nogi? What the _hell_ are you two doing here?"

The pair look behind them, and while Ruka seems unsurprised at the pianist's presence, his companion, Hotaru, narrows her eyes. Her absolutely deadpan reply does not give away any hint of shock, although it is discernable from her expression.

"Hyuuga."

Mikan chooses to interrupt the unprecedented stare-off between two of her guests. "I invited them, Natsume. I'd do introductions, but it seems like you guys already know each other personally."

As she holds the two boxes close to her chest and graciously thanks the duo, Natsume can only groan in exasperation.

* * *

"How are you finding Paris?" Mikan asks her new female companion, beginning the conversation, as she hands the person in question a mug of coffee.

"Alright," Hotaru simply replies, still maintaining her manners while drinking the coffee under the birthday girl's roof. "Nogi has been helping me to adjust to the city. It is rather different from Tokyo."

"How long have you been here?"

"Around two months, give or take a few days."

Mikan almost chokes on her drink as she sputters, "Only two months? But… your command of the language is really good! It's as if…"

A barely visible smile appears on her companion's lips, and she admits, "I took French lessons before applying for my scholarship."

"Hotaru, you sound almost like a local," the brunette compliments. Her expression then becomes slightly disgruntled as she recalls her own memories. "I can remember how bad my accent was when I first moved…"

All of a sudden, Natsume slams a hand on the table in uncharacteristic frustration. The people seated at the table turn to face him.

"Alright, I've been here for the past five minutes, and I have _no damn idea_ what is happening," the pianist sneers, glancing around the table before shooting Mikan a pointed glare.

"Mind filling me in, _birthday girl_?"

Mikan looks at him sheepishly and scratches her head in response, her cheeks flushed lightly.

"Well… I guess I owe you that much, since I kind of called you here without telling you why…" She drawls, her eyes diverting away from any sort of eye contact - from Natsume's annoyed glare, to Hotaru's neutral, blank gaze.

Across the table, Ruka is seen raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Natsume crosses his arms, and continues his interrogation. "_Damn right_ you do. Well?"

"Hmm… It's my birthday today, though I suppose you've already noticed. I kind of called you over to- Um, well, since you sounded like you needed a break and all-"

Ruka can help himself no longer, stifling a chuckle as he barges into the conversation.

"You invited him over to celebrate your birthday as a _task_?"

Upon hearing this, Natsume affixes the toymaker with a blank stare.

His reply is an undignified, "you _what?_"

She gives the bemused pianist an uneasy giggle.

"Hah, well, yep, that's the gist of it-" She stops mid-sentence, her eyes shifting over to the concertmaster suddenly. "Wait, how did you know that, Ruka?"

The blonde concertmaster straightens, fixing Mikan with a sly look.

"It was easy enough to read your reactions, Mikan."

The toymaker looks down, shyly hiding her face with her fringe in response. A few moments later, she perks up randomly, and claps once.

"Right! Now that that's out of the way, let's get this party-"

"Not so fast," Natsume interjects again. "You still haven't explained _what the hell_ he," he nods as points towards Ruka, "and, more importantly, she," then gestures to Hotaru, "are doing here."

Mikan looks at him, annoyed at his interruption.

"Natsume, it's not rocket science. They're _guests_."

He simply raises an eyebrow in response.

"Imai just so happens to be an old acquaintance of mine," Natsume explains in a matter-of-fact manner. "How do you even know each other?"

"She's a friend of Ruka's, evidently. Ruka brought her over today so that she would be able to make a female friend to get her more oriented to the city."

Natsume relaxes into his chair, and after a moment of thought, eventually nods sagely in response.

"I see."

He then nods at Hotaru, who fixes him with a neutral gaze.

"It's a surprise to see you here, Imai. Who would've expected that?"

She gives a slight nod in response.

"I could say the same for you, Hyuuga," Hotaru states, before taking a quick sip of her coffee, "Though it did take a while for you to acknowledge my presence."

Mikan looks questioningly at Natsume.

"It seems you guys are familiar with each other," she comments, in a daze.

"I just told you _half a minute ago_ that she was an old acquaintance of mine," Natsume scoffs at the brunette. "Were you even listening?"

"Eh… Well… I just expected a bit more explanation…" Mikan shrugs.

Hotaru cuts in at this point, sparing Natsume the pain of elaboration.

"I met Hyuuga in Japan, back when he was still studying music," she starts. "This year, he gave me the recommendation to join Nogi's orchestra. It's an utter coincidence that we just so happened to meet in this shop."

Hotaru glances at Natsume, who is still recovering from his seething outburst.

"He evidently still hasn't tamed his short temper, it seems."

"He was like that in Japan as well?" Mikan gasps as she leans forward, interested in Hotaru's talk, and conveniently ignoring Natsume's growing irritation.

"Arrogant, confident, thrifty, self-obsessed, you name it," the clarinetist sighs in slight amusement.

Natsume attempts to speak up, "Hey, Imai, since when was I _ever_ self-obsessed-"

"I agree with you wholeheartedly!" The brunette rejoices, placing a hand on her chest in exasperation. "It's like he's still a damn _kid_. You should have seen his reaction when I tripped into him by accident! I mean, he even threatened to buy my shop for slighting him!"

Natsume's exasperated 'I didn't actually say that!' is completely ignored by the group.

Hotaru, for the first time that morning, shows a genuine expression of surprise. Her eyebrows rise as she sets her mug down on the table, curious. "Hyuuga's never said anything to _that _extent, before, surprisingly-"

Ruka watches the scene unfold with an expectant expression as Natsume huffs in irritation and growls, "What do you mean, surprisingly-"

"But he does have a severe tendency to talk before he thinks," Hotaru casually interrupts him, "and although you can't really blame him for being an idiot, I'd still like to see him repent for his words, someday."

Upon hearing her wish, Ruka holds in a chuckle, Mikan covers her smile with her hand, and Natsume can only groan at the fact that they are obviously enjoying his pain.

"W-Well…" Ruka breathes, as he tries to unsuccessfully hold in his laughter, "T-The thing is-"

"Please breathe before you speak, otherwise you'll die an ironic death while trying to explain what's so funny," the clarinetist deadpans.

"A-Alright," he takes a deep breath, and when he is finally calm, continues, "The thing is, because-" Ruka takes one more glance at Natsume's displeased expression.

Before he can burst into another fit of laughter again, Hotaru turns to the brunette, who seems more in control of her amusement.

"What on earth is he going on about?"

Natsume's eyes widen as he realizes Mikan and Ruka's intention, and decides to speak up. "Mikan, Imai, we really should start the party-"

Hotaru silences him with a sharp glare.

"Can it, Hyuuga."

Mikan giggles as she watches Natsume nod submissively, and decides to continue her explanation before the pianist is able to interrupt again.

"Natsume and I had a rather _unpleasant_ first encounter, and thanks to his antics, he's now paying for it. It's a bit of a long story, actually..."

Natsume shoots Mikan a nasty glare, but as he is about to interject, Hotaru beats him to the punch by shooting him a glare of her own, obviously interested in Mikan's tale.

"Long story short?" She presses, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

The brunette smirks as she confesses, "He's now stuck with having to do twelve tasks for me, thanks to his unbelievable eloquence. He's essentially at my beck and call now."

As the words leave her mouth, Natsume groans in defeat while Hotaru tries to suppress a snigger.

"Now that we're done with _that_," Natsume eventually grunts, "can we _please_ start the damn party?"

As if to answer his question, Izumi appears from the front of the shop, a large, red box in his hands.

"I've collected the cake from the bakery, Honey. Narumi's busy today, so he won't be able to make it after all, it seems."

Mikan glances around, and gives her father a brilliant smile.

"Oh, that's okay. Everyone else is here after all, and we seem to be getting along _quite _well."

Behind her, Ruka and Hotaru suppress their beguilement as Natsume collapses in his seat, without the energy to argue at all.

* * *

Mikan waves goodbye at Hotaru and Ruka leaving, to her enjoyment, in the same car. As she watches the car drive down the road until it turns a corner and disappears from her sight, she tightens her hold on her broom and turns around.

Natsume is grabbing his coat, and about to leave the store, but he is instead stopped by Mikan.

"You're not going anywhere," she says as she grabs his shoulder. "Help me clean up the store."

"What, wasn't my task to celebrate your birthday with you?" Natsume asks, a part of himself fearing for the worst, "Are you seriously going to waste an additional task on something as trivial like this?"

"Don't dream, _Mozart._ I asked you to _help_ celebrate my birthday, emphasis on '_help_'_._ You're cleaning."

Natsume groans, as he watches Mikan walk to get a broom from behind the counter.

"_Knew it. Fucking knew it wouldn't be that easy. Goddamn semantics._"

He is smacked by a broom from behind.

"I heard that, _sailor_. Get to work," Mikan motions, as she hands him a broom.

He grudgingly begins to sweep.

"So," he hears Mikan call out from the other end of the room, "you and Ruka looked like you hit it off really well."

Natsume shrugs, and replies. "Well, the kid's a nice fellow, and he knows his music. He's not that much of a challenge to talk to, as well. Unlike _somebody._"

"Hey, I resent that! Take that back!"

Natsume chuckles in reply.

"Kidding," he eventually replies. "I managed to get his number. He seems like a pretty nice guy to go drinking with," he continues.

"Yeah, Ruka can hold his liquor well."

The pianist then decides to change the focus of the conversation.

"You and Imai seemed to have become fast friends, as well. It's odd, actually. Imai doesn't usually take well to strangers."

"Well, we had your _idiocy_ to bond over, for one."

Natsume casually groans, and Mikan giggles in response.

"Well, Hotaru's pretty nice, and intelligent, too. Once you get past her absolute bluntness, that is."

"I'm surprised you could tolerate her, actually. Imai seemed to be aiming to piss you off all throughout the party."

"Really? I thought she was pretty friendly."

"She implied you were an idiot about six times during the course of our conversations. Didn't you pick anything up at all?"

"Well, she stated _directly_ that you were an idiot for about as many times, and you're her friend, so…"

"Fair point," Natsume concedes.

They continue sweeping for a short while in amicable silence, before Natsume decides to shatter the peaceful lull again.

"You know, I could have gotten you a gift if you'd have just told me my task, you dolt," he states as he walks over to the dining table and begins to clear it.

"I didn't want to force you to get anything, since it was last minute and all, and this task was all about giving you a break anyway…" Mikan sheepishly replies.

"It's still your _birthday_. I would've gotten you a gift if I had known. Besides, how the _hell_ is this," he grunts as he sets down the dishes in the sink and gestures to them, "giving me a break, pray tell?"

Mikan shoots him a steely glare from across the kitchen counter.

"Be glad I'm not making you help out with carrying my New Year's shopping."

Natsume pales, and Mikan giggles at his reaction. Her gaze softens, as she addresses his first worry.

"Well, Natsume, it's honestly more than enough that you attended the party. Many of my friends are usually out of the country during this period, and it's really hard to get them to celebrate my birthday on the day itself, so I'm glad that you managed to make it today. You really don't have to get me a present. Your presence here more than made up for the lack of a gift."

"You know, I was the only one that didn't get you anything. I really hate to admit this, but I do feel a little…"

"Guilty? Natsume, you really don't have to hit yourself over the head with this."

He shrugs, and sighs.

"If you say so."

'_Even if you do say that, it's still your damn birthday.'_

* * *

Mikan is flabbergasted to see Natsume standing at the shop's entrance later that evening.

"Natsume?" She murmurs, as she holds her scarf closer to her neck to protect from the cold draft of wind entering the shop. "What are you doing here?"

He wordlessly holds out a small box to her, and she looks at it skeptically.

"Happy Birthday."

The brunette huffs, but she cannot contain her surprise. "I told you that you didn't have to get me anything, didn't I?"

The pianist fixes his eyes on hers, and gives her a small smile.

"Didn't sit well with me."

She gives him a warm smile in response, and opens the box.

A pendant with a small, brilliant set, warm-yellow topaz gem greets her, and she cannot help but sigh in contentment, a small blush on her cheeks.

After a moment of speechlessness on her part, Mikan speaks, "Thank you, Natsume."

Her warm, sincere tone betrays her gratefulness, in spite of the short statement.

Natsume looks at her, questioningly.

"Like it?"

"I'd be an idiot to say no," Mikan murmurs in amazement. "This is _beautiful._"

He laughs.

"Glad you like it."

Mikan's eyes then widen in realization.

"It's been nearly half a day since the party. Don't tell me you-"

"Never mind that. Hungry?" He interrupts, dismissing her suspicions and gesturing behind him. "I was planning to head to the deli down the road for dinner. Want to come along?"

"Well, I _do_ have to get something for Dad to eat since I'm not cooking tonight…"

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

She giggles and gives him a thousand-watt smile in response.

"Let's go."

* * *

A/N: _This time my A/N's going to be first. To be honest, this chapter was practically all of Theo's work. I've been busy the whole night, but he managed to write the whole thing really well. Thanks to him! (And I swear, I'm definitely going to need to contribute more in the next chapter.)_

_-Jess._

A/N: _I'm very bad at writing Hotaru. Everything Hotaru is practically Jess. (Jess: There isn't much Hotaru, though.) As always, kudos to Jess for the major assistance in the writing (Jess: Nope.) and editing. I've also learnt through the process of writing this chapter that I am unable to interpret Jess' sarcasm. (Jess: My sarcasm is perfect, thank you very much.) I've also been singing Britney Spears' 'Oops, I Did It Again' while working. Ah yes, mistake of the day- Natsume's 'Natsy' (nasty) glare. (Jess: I'm adding this word to my dictionary and keeping it there forever. Just watch.) Also, I'm the asshole that appends a full stop to the end of Jess' name every chapter. She doesn't do it normally. (Jess: Nor do I really care if there's a full stop or not. HAHA.) I'm just a stickler for format._

_-Theo._

From the both of us: _As always, we hope you enjoyed this chapter. We really need to stop affirming each other and trying to one-up one another, don't we?_

A/N: _I like invading Theo's A/Ns. Just saying. I'm choosing rejections over affirmations, because we do need to stop this. Yep._

_-Jess._

'_**TOTORO!'**_

_**'NONONO!'**_


End file.
